


alive

by orphan_account



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3982351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan doesn't lie; he only denies himself the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	alive

Ronan feels numb most of the time. He thinks it's because his self-hatred has burnt out any other semblance of emotion so all Ronan is left with is an empty husk of a human being.

Distractions help a little; Ronan goes to Kavinsky, goes to his bottle of vodka, goes to his dreams, and it just makes it a little better, if only for a moment. And when Ronan looks at Adam and he feels some warmth, tentatively crawling through his chest before it vanishes -- because why would Adam want Ronan when he's nothing but a shitty person who only drags Adam down with his drinking and his driving and his negativity. Adam is a patch of midday sun in the autumn; solid warmth amidst cold winds, like a friend at your back. Reassuring, almost, but gone within moments.

So Ronan's stuck in this vicious circle of brief reprieves and subsequent shame because he knows he doesn't deserve any of it. He's a ruiner, he's a fucking ruiner, Jesus Christ can somebody save him? He scoffs at the idea of someone willing to drag him out of his own filth -- who would want to save Ronan Lynch? He can't even save himself, look at him, the worthless piece of shit.

_I just want to feel alive,_ he thinks morbidly (ironically, because when will that ever happen?) as he lifts the bottle to his mouth. It's cold in Monmouth and the sun has set but Ronan can't be bothered turning on the lights; there's something fitting about drinking your woes away alone in the darkness, and Ronan is nothing if not extreme.

He hears gravel crunching beneath car tires, and a glance out the window confirms it's Adam coming to see him, wearing that faded Coca Cola shirt even though it's chilly outside and he really ought to wear a jacket. Adam hates being sick.

_Ugh, Adam_. Why is he coming to see Ronan? Ronan feels like shit, doesn't feel like seeing anyone today, let alone Adam. He just wants to wallow in his shittiness for a little longer, is that too much to ask? He doesn't want Adam to see him like this; he'd pity Ronan who has everything easy but just won't do anything with it. Poor Ronan, handed everything on a dreamed-up silver platter but too fucking sad to do anything about it.

Adam knocks on the door, "Ronan?"

"Go away," he shoves his face into his pillow. Maybe he'll pass out from lack of air.

"Ronan, let me in, you asshole. It's cold out here."

A pause.

"Ronan!" He bangs the door another few times.

Ronan drags himself up from his bed (he feels like absolute shit), and trudges to the front door. He's lived in the same shirt for three days and his sweats are barely staying on his hips; it's all very fitting for his current state of emotional limbo. He yanks the door open.

"What do you want, Parrish?"

Adam's eyes skitter across Ronan before pointedly settling at the bottle, "Are you okay? You look like shit."

"Thanks." He deserves it. He goes to lounge on Gansey's study chair, careful to not destroy any of Gansey's mini-Henrietta (he's not willing to receive another one of those trademark Gansey long-suffering sighs and lectures).

"I haven't seen you in ages," says Adam. In the blue light of the evening, Ronan notices the dip of Adam's collarbones, the line of his jaw, the circles underneath his eyes, all accentuated by the night's shadows. _Adam_ , he thinks, heart constricting.

Ronan takes another swig from the bottle ( _fucking hell, Lynch, this crush has you good_ ). "Yeah, well, maybe I didn't want to be seen in ages."

Adam shuts the door behind him, shivering at the cold. He pauses by the model of the Henrietta library, head slightly tilted at Ronan like he's some equation Adam hasn't solved. His mouth opens and closes around the beginning of different words, uncertainty painted across his face. Ronan is not some equation.

"Spit it out, Parrish. What are you here for?"

He sighs before settling at the foot of Gansey's bed. "I just -- I haven't seen you in a while, so I -- I just wanted to see you."

Warmth sparks in Ronan's chest, which Ronan does he absolute best to ignore.

"I brought some Latin homework," he holds up his worn textbook, "Figured I might as well study here since you're a Latin genius and I can ask you questions if I need to."

Ronan narrows his eyes. Adam never asks for help, Adam always does things on his own, even if it's homework. This must be something he and Gansey planned; make Ronan Lynch feel better, make him feel needed and special with attention from his stupid crush.

"Really," Ronan says flatly, "You need help, from me."

Adam rolls his eyes, "I wanna get a good mark for Latin, don't I? And you're good at Latin, so obviously, I'm here for the Latin help. For Latin." He shakes his head, soft moonlight glinting off his hair, and promptly makes himself comfortable for study on top of Gansey's bed.

"Asshole," mutters Ronan, because he is Ronan.

He doesn't bother hiding his stare as he watches Adam study. The Coca Cola shirt rides up as he leans forward to read from the textbook, and Ronan swallows tightly at the tan lower back of Adam Parrish. His spine curves over as he reads and Ronan is reminded of a curled tendril of a young plant, blooming in the warm sun. Ronan is only a shadow that would ruin Adam; he knows this, but he can't help but _want_. His eyes travel across Adam's shoulders, -- although not immensely broad, still a pair of ridiculously good-looking shoulders -- following the slope of his neck, the interval between his jaw and chin before settling on the angles of his mouth (Ronan wants to kiss that mouth very much).

Adam's lips mumble through various Latin phrases. _Non est vivere sed valere vita est,_ he hears Adam say, and Ronan laughs at how fitting it is.

"What? Did I say it wrong?" Adam looks up and places his pen between his head and left ear. _God, that is so hot,_ Ronan thinks.

" _Life is not being alive, but being well,_ " says Ronan, "Best thing I've heard all week."

He says it ironically but he's not entirely lying -- hearing Adam speaking Latin could be going on a list somewhere.

Adam cocks his head. "Are you well?"

"What?" For a moment, Ronan thinks  _Adam knows_ ; knows that Ronan will only drag him down with his filfth, that he's just a thief that takes and takes. But no one wants to knows Ronan like  _that_. Hell, not even Gansey, who wants to know something about almost everything.

"Are you well, Ronan?"

"Dunno. Are you?"

Adam shrugs.

"Jeez, Parrish. Are  _you_ okay? You're being a weird creep."

Adam levels Ronan with a dry stare. " _You're_ being creepy," he turns back to his textbook and this light must be playing tricks on Ronan's eyes because he can see a slight flush travelling up Adam's neck, "You keep staring. It's creepy and distracting."

"It's called observing, okay, Parrish?" Ronan sets aside the vodka bottle and folds his arms -- time to get this over with, "And we both know why you're _really_ here."

He draws the last part out with a sneer, distaste clearly showing. Adam's head snaps up, his cheeks flushing like he usually does just before losing his patience with Ronan.

"What? I'm here to study Latin, Ronan."

"Gansey sent you, didn't he."

A pause.

" _What_?"

"You and Gansey. You both planned this little pity study-date to cheer me up." Adam's frown deepens, face flushing further. He opens his mouth -- "Don't lie, Adam. I don't need your lies or your pity. You and Gansey can fuck right off and leave me the fuck alone."

Ronan picks up the vodka bottle and heads to his room. "Let yourself out; I'm going to bed."

He hears Adam furiously gathering his things up before Ronan crashes in his bed. He can't wait for today to end.

"Ronan."

He groans, turning to face the wall, "Haven't you left yet?"

He doesn't want Adam here while he's blatantly trying to ignore his feelings. He's so tired but he doesn't feel it; Ronan doesn't feel anything.

The bed sinks where Adam has sat himself down. Ronan's heart races. In the cold still air of Monmouth, he can feel Adam's warmth; how easy it would be to just reach out and _touch_.

"This wasn't a pity study-date," -- Ronan scoffs, Adam ignores him -- "I was just trying to spend time with you. You've been avoiding me, and I, I don't know -- I missed arguing with you."

Ronan refuses to believe it, tries to quash the feeling in his chest spreading throughout him. He can feel the tips of his ears heating up, face burning. He pointedly scoots himself closer to the wall, angling his body as far away from Adam as he can -- _I don't want to hear it,_ he hopes it says.

Adam goes on, "And Gansey wasn't a part of any of this. He doesn't even know that I -- he doesn't know. You are such a paranoid creep, it's amazing."

Wait, what? Ronan cracked open an eye, slightly turning his head to Adam. "Gansey doesn't know what?"

"What?"

Ronan turns to fully face Adam, hoping the lack of light hides his blush enough, "What doesn't Gansey know?"

Adam's flush creeps further up his face and he seems particularly interested in Ronan's bedroom wall right now. "Um, Gansey doesn't know that I -- that we, um -- Do I have to say it out loud?"

Ronan sits up, his interest peaking. There's not much Gansey isn't at least aware of, so whatever Adam is hiding, it's gonna be good.

"Yes, Parrish. Say it, say it out loud," Ronan cracks a grin at Adam's soured expression.

"Now isn't really the time for terrible movie quotes, Lynch."

"Oh, it's always the right time for terrible movie quotes. You just can't handle the truth, and frankly, my dear, I don't g--"

Ronan's interrupted by Adam. Specifically, Adam's mouth on his. Adam kissing Ronan. _Adam_.

Ronan tears away, "What the _hell_?!"

This has to be another pity thing, fucking hell. They're both slightly out of breath. Ronan's whole face is burning and his heart is threatening to launch itself out of his chest, but Ronan knows there's no way Adam really wants him. He doesn't deserve Adam. This is another lie.

"What do you mean 'what the hell?'" Adam's head is bowed and his cheeks are red, like he's ashamed ( _God, Ronan, look what you've done_ ), "I thought -- I thought you liked me."

The last part is said so quietly, Ronan can barely hear over his thunderous heartbeat.

"Did you not hear what I said about pity? Fucking hell, Parrish, you sure you're just deaf in one ear?"

He scrubs a hand down his face. He can still feel Adam on his lips.

"This isn't pity, Ronan," he finally looks up, "I can't believe you're making me say this out loud. I actually like you, you idiot."

"Don't say that."

"What?"

"Don't be fucking cruel, Parrish."

Ronan knows none of this is true, but he desperately wants it to be. To believe Adam Parrish likes him, and kissed him because he wanted to. To believe that Ronan Lynch is good enough to have this one thing.

"I'm not being cruel. Get it through your thick head, Ronan Lynch, or else I'm going to leave: Gansey did not set me up to this, this is not a pity date, and you need to wake up."

His clear blue eyes focus on Ronan and Ronan feels picked apart by them, like he's some jumbled up equation; a mess of numbers and symbols that Adam has neatly arranged in his scrawny handwriting.

He gently takes Ronan's hand in his, and Ronan stops breathing. "Stop beating yourself up, and stop lying to yourself. You are worthy of good things, Ronan."

Adam's voice is soft and Ronan knows he wasn't lying. God, he wants to cry. This fucking boy likes him and wants him, and he feels so impossibly alive.

He stares at Adam's lips, still pink from earlier, "Okay."

Ronan cups Adam's jaw and leans in, lips meeting and hands holding. He is aflame with every movement of their lips against each other's, and he instantly takes note: kissing Adam Parrish is one of his favourite things to do, ever. He knows he'll doubt all of this later, and still fall prey to his cycle of pleasure and pain. He knows, but he also knows _this_. Adam's lips against his, surprisingly soft and always so gentle. His fingers card up through Ronan's buzzcut, nails catching on the base of his neck and setting off sparks within Ronan. There's electricity coursing through Ronan's veins, and all Ronan can think is _I'm alive_ and _Adam_.

They finally break apart for air and Ronan falls back into the bed, tugging Adam down with him.

"Houston, we do not have a problem."

Ronan rolls his eyes. Leave it to Adam to ruin nice moments with terrible humour. "That was a complete miss and you should be embarrassed."

Adam grins, "I know."

It goes on like this: Adam and Ronan like each other very much. Adam isn't just a patch of midday sun -- he's the whole sun, giving life and strength, and Ronan is so grateful to have fallen within Adam's orbit.

Ronan knows he's not a shadow of a person anymore; he knows he's of the Earth, he's flesh and blood. _He's alive._

**Author's Note:**

> ok so I wrote this at 3am because these two wouldn't let me sleep until I wrote the whole damn thing, start to finish. 
> 
> and boy do I have a thing for writing sad men beating themselves up over nothing haha.......... it's not emotionally draining at all.....


End file.
